


Porcelain, Ivory, Steel

by MaryaDmitrievnaLikesSundays



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Blood, Comfort, Daughters, Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Daughter Relationship, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Parent-Child Relationship, Short Story, Sickness, Sister-Sister Relationship, Sisters, Steel - Freeform, Whump, dead mother - Freeform, father - Freeform, ivory - Freeform, mother - Freeform, porcelain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-27 03:13:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18295694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaryaDmitrievnaLikesSundays/pseuds/MaryaDmitrievnaLikesSundays
Summary: Porcelain, Ivory, Steel.Three revered sisters.Daughters of the governer.Alike in blood and nothing more.United only by death and status.Porcelain, Ivory, Steel.





	Porcelain, Ivory, Steel

Once, a rich old man fathered three daughters.

 

Ivory, his oldest, was as rare as she was beautiful. She wore silks and satins and big ruffled bows, and her creamy white skin was cold to the touch. She was dangerous, though, and easy to provoke, for tusks don’t come without their points.

 

His middle child, Steel, was cold and hard, but never too cruel. Her eyes were a sharp blue, calculating, intelligent, and constantly observing each and every movement in a room. She was deadly and quick, yet merciful in her own right. Should your blood drench your newest corset, she would kindly wash it off herself.

 

And his youngest, Porcelain, was fragile. Her brand-new face was the last her mother ever saw, and her sisters never forgave her. “She’s a delicate one,” the townsfolk would say, “best not to touch her.” And so Porcelain, fair and gentle as she was, stayed alone, humming along with the birds or sewing new dresses, careful to never let the needle prick her finger, should the blood never stop.

 

Then, on the eve of Porcelain’s twentieth birthday, the old man fell deathly ill. His daughters all sat around his sick bed, ready to present him their gifts to bring with him to the next life.

 

Ivory spoke first, saying, “Father, I give you my shiniest pearls, to show your status and wealth in the world beyond.” 

 

And although the man could not speak, he nodded and accepted the pearls.

 

Steel spoke next. “Father, I give you my sharpest dagger, so you may protect yourself from any malevolent souls you may cross.”

 

And although the man could not speak, he nodded and accepted the dagger.

 

Porcelain spoke last, her voice high and trembling like a soft wind chime. “Father,” she whispered, “I give you my blood, so that you may have life even in death.”

 

As a shining tear spilled down her fair cheek, Porcelain pulled out her finest sewing needle, engraved with tiny flowers, and pricked her left thumb. She smeared the drop of blood that welled up over her father’s cheek. He did not nod. Rather, he smiled, and for the last time closed his eyes.

 

The gossip was true, then; dare to scratch Porcelain, she will never stop bleeding. That day, Porcelain finally shattered.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment please, I got this idea from three different versions of Morgana Pendragon from bbc Merlin


End file.
